We Can Dance If We Want To
by LutwidgeDodgson
Summary: Eleanor lives for ballet, for the order and focus it brings to her life. But then Sirius Black worms his way into her heart. And he's about to screw everything up.
1. Chapter 1: Rich Girl

**Chapter 1: Rich Girl**

The alarm clock on the table began to let out a piercing wail, marking the time: 7 a.m. Eleanor Atwood had been up for two hours already, so the alarm wasn't a wake up call, but rather a noise to bring her back to the world and its obligations for today.

Eleanor grabbed her wand off the table and wordlessly shut off the clock. Then she proceeded to collapse on the floor in exhaustion. Time to stretch. She re-tied the white blonde knot on the top of her head, shook out her arms, and spread her legs into a wide v shape, stretching for the tips of her toes. She could see her spine curve as she reached, its bones protruding out, creating lumps in her smooth black leotard. A droplet of sweat slid to the studio floor, and she relaxed into the movement. Today's practice had been hard but fruitful. She was so close to nailing the 32 fouettes of _Swan Lake,_ a requisite skill if she hoped to audition for the Paris Wizarding Ballet company in the spring.

She considered it a good omen for her upcoming year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It would be her last, the completion of her magical education and the beginning of the rest of her life. She couldn't decide if she'd miss it. She'd always felt out of place at Hogwarts - a proud Ravenclaw, sure, but one who mostly kept to herself. She had only one close friend, RJ, who she'd practically grown up with, so that didn't even really count. She hadn't had to do anything to win his friendship, he'd simply appeared in her life when he'd moved in next door to her in Godric's Hollow.

And speaking of RJ, she was riding with him to King's Cross Station to board the Hogwarts Express in just a few hours. With a sigh, she heaved herself off the floor, untied pointe shoes in hand, and made her way from her home's basement studio to her room on the second floor. On the way up, she snagged a piece of toast and a glass of milk, almost running into her father on the landing. "Good morning, El," he said sleepily, still in his pajamas. She nodded and quickly walked to her bedroom door. She paused, "I'm going to Hogwarts today, Dad. By the way."

He looked surprised and a little dazed. "Oh, of course. Yes. You have a ride? I have a class at 10 or I'd take you." They both knew that was a lie. He hadn't dropped her off at King's Cross since she was 11, back when her mother was still alive. "Yeah, RJ is taking me." He smiled slightly and headed down the stairs. "Well in case I don't see you, have a good year sweetheart. I'll leave you some spending money on the table."

She grimaced. Lewis Atwood was a professor of literature at a college in London and since her mother's death five years ago, he had poured himself into his work, leaving very little time left over for his little girl.

Not that Eleanor spent a lot of time missing him. A few days after she'd gotten home this summer, she had a rare moment of thoughtfulness and went to take her dad some lunch. But when she arrived at his office, she'd walked on him and a student in an, ahem, compromising situation. Since then, she'd avoided him completely. The two hadn't yet spoken about the incident, and it seemed like now they never would. Soon she'd be out of the house for good.

Eleanor began straightening her things, placing assorted items in her trunk. Not one for sentimentality, she had a garbage bag filled with childhood debris ready to take to the trash. She didn't plan on returning to this house after graduation, and it was so much easier to live only on what could fit inside the trunk.

Into the trunk's waiting mouth she fed numerous clean, soft leotards in various colors; several pairs of unripped tights; three pairs of pointe shoes - including one to break in; her school robes; her muggle jeans and folded sweaters; her schoolbooks, organized by subject; the shrunken record player she'd bewitched to play without electricity and accompanying albums; assorted cauldrons and dragonhide gloves; treats for her black kitten, Greta; and finally, a pristine white swan ballet costume with intricate beading and matching jewelry. It had been her mother's.

After throwing away what she could do without, she swept her room and looked around at its bare walls, the bed neatly made. She'd never felt very attached to this room. That honor was saved for her beloved studio, the one she and her mother had danced in when she was just a toddler, a child, a preteen. The one she'd practically lived in after her mother passed and her father might as well have. It was where she could think, could breathe freely.

That was where she found herself now, a few minutes before RJ was due to pick her up to take her from this place, maybe forever. She ran a hand across the mirrored walls, inhaling the earthy smell of well, sweat, but also the sturdiness of the hard floor beneath her feet, the piney scent of the soap their house elf Nelly used to clean the room. It was her place. She wished she could magick it into her pocket to take it with her wherever she might go. As it were, the Room of Requirement allowed her some approximation of this, though she could never get the smell exactly right.

"It feels weird doesn't it? That you won't get to be down here everyday?" The voice of her oldest friend R.J. Friar echoed around the studio. She turned to him and smiled despite himself - he was wearing his usual, er, creative take on muggle clothing: a bright red sparkling cowboy-style button down complete with a brown bolo tie, tucked into impossibly tight pale blue jeans and cowboy boots. "Rodeo chic, huh RJ?" He flashed a megawatt smile. "You know it." They stood for a moment in silence, in a room they had both loved. RJ had been a dancer too, though he had no plans of going at it professionally. They had taken ballet classes together as 6-year-olds at the wizarding ballet school just a few miles away. Small, shy Eleanor had gravitated towards big, boisterous RJ Friar and his smile, disarming even then.

It was weird to think of that shy little girl. She was still introverted, sure, but ballet had brought her a power, a control of herself and her body that made her unafraid, or at least as long as she jumped and spun to a particular pas. "So are you wearing that leo onto the train?" RJ smirked. Eleanor laughed, "Oh yes, do you think Sirius Black would like it?" She gave a fake flirtatious wink and posed. RJ laughed too - they'd long since used Black as a sort of punchline, talking about him the way they would an unattainable celebrity. The boy was gorgeous, a fact RJ loved to discuss with a dreamy look in his eye, but he preferred the company of Hogwarts' most popular and beautiful, of which RJ and El were not included. She wasn't sure she'd said a word to him their whole seven years at Hogwarts.

RJ coninued, "But, like, actually are you going to change? My mom's outside waiting to take us to the station." Eleanor sighed, "If you insist…race ya!" They jogged up the flights of stairs leading to her room. RJ grabbed her trunk and cat carrier and began the descent downstairs. Eleanor slipped out of her very old, ripped leo and tossed it in a now-empty drawer. She slipped on a flowy white blouse and loose bell bottoms, along with her favorite pair of maroon clogs, took one last look around her room, and headed for the door.

"And so it begins," she thought. The rest of her life.


	2. Chapter 2: Feels Like The First Time

**Chapter 2: Feels Like The First Time**

"Okay...how about Cyrano Holden, Sirius Black, or Severus Snape." RJ tossed Eleanor a cauldron cake as he posed the question during one of their favorite games: Fuck, Marry, Kill. Eleanor pretended to think deeply about this. "Well, kill Black for sure. And you know how I feel about Cyrano...he's beautiful and so smart and like insanely kind."

RJ rolled his eyes, "Oh yes I know. You've crushed on him practically since we came to Hogwarts. " Eleanor pursed her lips, "I can't help the way I feel!" RJ gave a short laugh and looked away. And then his eyes widened. "Wait. Are you saying you'd fuck Snape?" Eleanor had the decency to blush. "What? He's got that whole bad boy that dark hair...plus he's incredibly intelligent. I'd totally do him...if only he wasn't so caught up in Lily Evans."

RJ scoffed. "Even I wouldn't do that and you know how indiscriminatory I can be."

"Oh I remember," El laughed. "Remember that muggle club this summer? That guy was like 50 years old."

"A silver fox!" RJ exclaimed. "Plus he paid for all my drinks."

"He was balding, RJ." RJ laid down in the train compartment dramatically. "Sigh. You're right."

There was a soft knock on the compartment door. RJ lept off the cushion and slid it open - there stood Cyrano. "Er, hi," the tall, muscled blond said with a small smile. "Just wanted to say hello, it's good to see you both again."

Eleanor straightened up, pushing her straight hair behind her shoulders. She tried not to grin too widely. RJ stood and shook Cyrano's hand, "Good to see you, mate. Have a good summer, yeah?"

Cyrano nodded, another smile. "Excellent. But can't say I'm not glad to be back here. Our last year, can you believe it? Nice summer, Eleanor?" Eleanor opened her mouth to speak but no words came. She opted to just nod, that same nervous smile on her face.

Cyrano backed out of the compartment. "Well, nice chatting, s'pose I better get to the prefects area." RJ nodded, "Oh yes, we'd heard you made head boy...good on you!"

"Yes, congratulations," Eleanor chimed in. Cyrano smiled modestly, "Thanks, both of you. I'll see you at the feast, yeah?" One last nod and he left into the hall. Now it was Eleanor's turn to fall back on the cushion dramatically. "I'm an idiot..do you think he noticed?"

RJ gave a short laugh before looking slightly uncomfortable. "Hey, I'm parched, going to get a pumpkin juice from the trolley. Want anything?" "Firewhiskey to drown my shame, please," Eleanor groaned.

"Ha, maybe when we get to the castle sweetheart," he said before heading into the hall.

* * *

It had been 30 minutes with no sign of RJ. Eleanor decided to grab a drink herself. Walking down the hall, she passed by a compartment full of Gryffindors - Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter sat with their heads bent low towards each other, as if sharing secrets. She could only imagine the hijinks they were planning.

Eleanor hadn't realized she had stopped to stare until Black lifted his head from the huddle and stared straight at her. Eleanor held his gaze a moment, before giving a very small smile. He raised a single elegant eyebrow, and El quickly turned and made her way to the cart. "A butterbeer please," she asked the lady. "By the way, have you seen my friend? Ostentatious cowboy outfit?"

"Oh yes, nearly 25 minutes ago I'd reckon," the lady said kindly. Eleanor furrowed her brow, hurrying back to the compartment so as to avoid Black's compartment. When she arrived, there sat a more than slightly disheveled RJ dressed in his school robes.

She eyed him suspiciously, "Were you shagging someone?" RJ shook his head emphatically, "Oh no, was in the bathroom. Sick to my stomach, too many sweets." He managed a weak laugh. Eleanor smirked, "You little slut. Sneaking around already! You can always tell me, you know." RJ grinned, "Oh I know. I'll give you all the dirty details later."

El glanced out the window. "Guess I better change...we'll be at Hogwarts soon enough." She pulled on her uniform and re-plaited her hair just as the train pulled to a stop.

Not a moment too soon, Eleanor thought as she stretched her legs. She was itching to move, to sneak up to the seventh floor and dance out some of the nervous energy building up in her stomach. She couldn't explain the nerves, or why it felt like this year was going to be one that changed everything.

* * *

The Great Hall was decked out in its usual splendor. Eleanor and the other seventh years had just witnessed their very last sorting ceremony, and the air was one of general merriment and excitement.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stood from his chair, and the tables quieted immediately. "A few announcements before we feast," Dumbledore spoke with a smile. "First, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you all that no Zonko's Joke Shop products are allowed within the castle walls. I'd also like to introduce a new member of our staff, Madame Mariana Kuznetsova who will be taking over the teaching of Muggle Studies. She'll also be taking over as instructor of the Hogwarts Ballet Academy, signups for which can be found in the common room." A thin brunette pursed her lips and held up a hand in acknowledgement. Dumbledore bowed to her, "And now, we feast!"

Heaps of glorious dishes appeared on the table, but Eleanor didn't give them a second look. "RJ, Mariana Kuznetsova is one of the most renowned wizarding ballerinas. How on earth did Dumbledore manage to snag her?" RJ looked equally impressed. "I have no idea. But here's hoping she's at least a little better than Madame Joliet, who was barely qualified to teach the littles, much less professional dancers."

It was true. Before Joliet retired last year, she had been teaching ballet for what felt like a hundred years. By the time Eleanor entered Hogwarts she'd already learned most of what the professor could teach her and had for many years taken her ballet education into her own hands and the hands of her private tutor at home.

Eleanor kept looking at the new madame. Her face looked carved from ice, her cheekbones could cut through the table. She ate small, slow bites, every move of her fork and knife full of grace and balance. Eleanor could've spotted her as a ballerina if she were a mile away. El looked down at her potatoes and tried to mimic that lightness, taking tiny bites until she had eaten about half of her meal.

She then made a big show of yawning and stretching. "I'm beat, RJ. Going to head to bed early." RJ rolled his eyes, "Girl, we both know you're about to go dance. Carry on!"

Eleanor laughed and slipped out of the Great Hall and up flights of moving staircases until she reached the seventh floor corridor, deserted as usual. Walking past the door three times, she opened her eyes and clicked open the door. The sight left her as amazed as it always did.

An exact replica of her studio at home, the brightly lit room beckoned her inside. The only major difference was the wardrobe in the far corner of the room - inside it was a brand new set of pristine leotards and tights of all colors, not to mention her current pair of pointe shoes, imported from her trunk. She changed quickly, wanting to cry with relief at how good everything felt.

After 20 minutes of stretches, she slid Debussy's Suite Bergamasque III onto the record player and heard the first twinkling notes of "Claire de lune." She pointed her toes and was off, taking long, slow, measured movements against Debussy's sweet piano. Every moment was an extension, her toes perfectly on point, her fingers stretching to the sky. Plie, pirouette, arabesque. Everything smooth and soft, her favorite kind of motion.

The song ended and Eleanor stood in still in first position, breathing hard. "You have talent," a Russian-accented voice said from near the door. There stood Madame Kuznetsova in her long black silk robes, dark hair gathered at the nape of her neck. Eleanor blushed and curtsied. "Thank you, madame."

"But talent is not enough on its own, as I'm sure you know. What is your name?"

"Eleanor. Eleanor Atwood, madame." The professor swept towards her, until she stood just inches away. She lifted a hand to Eleanor's chin and lifted it up, examining. "Eleanor Atwood, where do you wish to go with ballet?"

"I'd like to join a company, perhaps in Paris," Eleanor breathed. "Ballet...it's everything I have."

Madame nodded in approval. "We will get you there, Miss Atwood. It will be hard work. But we will do it." And with that, she dropped her hand and was out the door.

Eleanor pushed the needle back to the beginning of the record and began to dance, a grin on her face.

* * *

The first day of classes was always exciting for Eleanor. Everything was fresh, and she had made no mistakes yet. All her supplies were new, as were her robes. It was a new start. This was the year she'd make all her dreams come true. Eleanor spotted Cyrano exiting the common room just as she entered. And maybe she'd get to have a little fun doing it.

RJ sat on the couch in the great stone room, waiting for her. He stood and looped his arm through hers as they headed out the portrait. "So what's on the schedule today, my dear Eleanor?"

"Potions with the Slytherins, Defense Against The Dark Arts with the Gryffindors. Lunch, and then in the afternoon, seventh year ballet tutorial. You?"

"Well since I've decided not to carry on with ballet this year, so I've Ancient Runes instead. Figure it could be fun to go be a world traveler after I graduate, going on adventures like Indiana Jones."

"Oh, you do love those movies. Sure you don't want to pick up ballet again? Just for fun? I don't know how I'm going to survive those girls without you." RJ laughed. "Those bitches? You're way out of their league. But speak of the devil..."

"Those girls" had just entered the Great Hall. They were a group of three Slytherins who dubbed themselves the 30, since they were all perfect tens. Lorraine Sleater lead the pack with her gorgeous tanned skin and sunkissed blonde curls; Lisi Tan, a Korean girl who hardly ever smiled followed quickly behind; and then there was Alicia Tanner, a striking black girl who was arguably the prettiest of the bunch, as well as the best dancer - she could give Eleanor a run for her money. They moved through the hall with that tangible air of superiority, their hair tossed back, reveling in the male and female attention they garnered.

Well," RJ scoffed as they sat down to eat. "I guess school really is back in session." Eleanor poured herself a coffee and snagged an egg just before a raucous noise entered the Great Hall. All four Marauders tripped and laughed their way to the bustling Gryffindor table, drawing eyes with all the noise they were making. Sirius Black immediately slid over to Dorcas Meadows, putting a slick arm around her shoulder and whispering something into her ear. She blushed immediately, and he responded by squeezing the side of her waist. "Preoccupied, are we?" RJ said with a knowing look. "Since when have you been eyeing Sirius Black?"

"Ugh, since never. He's such a pig," Eleanor looked down at her egg. "Please, you totally think he's hot. Which he is, by the way."

Eleanor chewed a bit of egg and sipped from her mug. "You know I only have eyes for Cyrano." She batted her lashes jokingly. But then she cleared her throat, "You know, I think I might actually try to go for him this year. I mean why not, right? It's now or never. Six years of crushing could finally be put to rest."

Eleanor thought RJ looked a little pale, but he smiled anyway and nodded. "Yeah, maybe you should go for it. Find out for sure." She looked to the middle of the table. Cyrano was chatting animatedly with some other members of the quidditch team, his head boy badge shining on his chest. She was seized with a weird confidence just as he got up from the table and began to head towards class. Eleanor jumped up and whispered to RJ, "Wish me luck!"

She caught up to him just outside the doors. "Hey, Cyrano!" He turned and smiled, "Hi, Eleanor. Excited for potions with the Slytherins?"

"Haha, oh you know it," she said. And then the nerves kicked in. "Um, I uh, have a weird question for you. And totally feel free to say no, or whatever. But, would you want to go with me on the first Hogsmeade weekend?"

She couldn't believe she'd actually said the words and sounded somewhat coherent. Cyrano looked surprised, but not disgusted. "Sure, Eleanor. I'd be honored to go with you. Shall we talk details closer to the date?"

Eleanor couldn't suppress her grin. "Closer to the date, yes. Well... I'll see you in class." She turned and practically skipped back to the table, where RJ waited expectantly. "Well?"

She could hardly keep her voice at a normal volume. "We're going together to the first Hogsmeade weekend!"

RJ grinned back, "Who are you and what have you done with the Eleanor Atwood I grew up with?"


	3. Chapter 3: I Like Dreamin'

Chapter 3: I Like Dreamin'

Finally, Saturday. The first week of classes had been an unexpected hellscape. With N.E.W.T.S. on the horizon, all the teachers had given them extra homework. Eleanor and RJ were currently sitting at a table in the common room, looking at spending the whole weekend buried in essays on dragon's blood and unforgivable curses.

"Um, Eleanor Atwood?" said a small girl Eleanor recognized as being in the first-years ballet class. "A note for you, from Madame." Eleanor took the note and read Madame Kusnetsova's tight cursive.

She stood up, giving RJ an apologetic smile. "She wants me to do a private rehearsal today, and I think I have to go." RJ shrugged, "Of course, the Iron Lady awaits!"

El quickly grabbed her tote and a sweater from her room and headed out the portrait hole. She climbed to seventh floor, but instead of turning into the Room of Requirement (where they'd had their first week of ballet instruction), she followed Madame's instructions to the end of the hall, to a pair of impressive heavy iron doors that she opened slowly.

She let out an audible gasp. The room was about 5 times bigger than the studio they had been using. Mirrors covered three walls that gave way to giant windows at least 50 feet high. The fourth wall was all windows, giving them a spectacular view of the grounds.

On the ceiling was a vivid classical-style painting reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel.

On the far side of the room stood wooden lockers for each of the seventh year dancers. She walked over only to see her name engraved on the one in the middle. She placed her tote carefully inside and quickly changed into a purple leo and black skirt paired with her silver warm-up ballet slippers.

She immediately went to the barre to begin her stretches, which was especially difficult given how much she wanted to stare at the gorgeous studio around her.

The door opened and Madame Kusnetsova entered, looking regal in her usual black robes. "Oh good, myshka, you are already stretched. I see you have noticed the room? Splendid, yes?"

Eleanor could only nod. "Dumbledore was gracious enough to give us such a large space. I designed it after my beloved studio in Russia."

"Do you miss it there?" Eleanor asked, the question slipping out. Madame's face hardened, "There is no time for missing. And now, we dance." She removed her robe to reveal a strong, slim physique in a black leo and leggings. Eleanor tried not to be obvious in her staring.

"First, we shall test your quickness...and then, your endurance," Madame glided to the record player and put on a familiar song. "You know the steps, yes?" It was Odile's coda, the black swan. Of course she knew the steps.

Eleanor launched into the dance, all quick movements and energetic leaps. The black swan was a seductress, selfishly motivated but beautiful to behold. She finished the dance with a flourish, out of breath. Madame nodded approvingly, "Yes, yes, your black swan, very nice. Now let's see you do the white swan."

Eleanor felt a pit of dread in her stomach. She still hadn't mastered the 32 fouettes, which she had thought was fine since she was pacing herself. But in front of Madame she wanted to be perfect. She wanted to prove she could do it.

She took her place in the center of the floor, and Odette's Act 3 coda began. The piece was meant for quick, light movements, as if she was air, as if she could float high above the hardwood floor and never come down.

"Higher...higher, Eleanor! You must reach!" And she did reach, extending her limbs to a just before breaking point, always more and more energetic. "Yes! Now more, more! Smile, you are a joyous white swan!" And then the fouettes.

To her horror, madame was counting. "1, 2, 3...23, 24-" and then Eleanor lost her footing, falling lightly to the floor, mortified but unhurt.

"Get back up, Eleanor. Again! Again!" And again and again they did the coda until she had gotten up to 30, respectable, but nowhere near company level. "We stop here, I think," the madame said as she surveyed Eleanor's exhausted body on the floor.

"Oh and Eleanor, next week we start weigh-ins in group practice. I want to see you drop a little weight, yes? Since you have professional ballet ambitions. Maybe then you will hit the fouettes." Eleanor flushed crimson, trying to stop herself from self-consciously covering her stomach.

Madame turned and left her sprawled on the floor, alone.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111

Just after midnight that evening, Eleanor let herself into the prefect bathrooms, which the seventh year ballerinas had been given special permission to use. The cavernous room was deserted, and Eleanor quickly locked herself in a stall.

She got on her knees in front of the toilet and took a deep breath. She had promised herself she would stop, but surely once more couldn't hurt? She had to be lighter for madame, to prove she could be a professional.

Her finger in her throat, Eleanor felt the familiar stinging in her eyes that meant she was about to puke. Into the toilet went her admittedly small day's meals. She knelt, tears running down her face, as she flushed.

She heard a scuffle and immediately stood up. She had to get out of here without whoever that was seeing her. After waiting a few minutes and hearing nothing, she stepped out of the stall and turned the corner. Sirius Black stood there in just a towel, one eyebrow raised. "You're not a prefect."

She glared at him. "Last time I checked you weren't either." He grinned, "Fair point."

They stood looking at each other a moment. "So...are you okay? I thought I heard someone being sick." Eleanor forced a smile, "I'm fine...dinner didn't sit well with me. Much better now."

Sirius didn't look like he believed her, but to her relief didn't push the matter. "Fancy a bath?" He gestured to the deep empty pool. "Always makes me feel better when I'm sick."

Eleanor sputtered, trying not to look at the dark hair peeking out of the top of his towel. "With y-you?"

"Oh yes. I'm quite fun to bathe with." And with that, he walked to the bath, turning on the knobs until out gushed hot water and purple and blue bubbles. Once the pool was full, he slipped off his towel - Eleanor averted her eyes - and cannonballed into the tub with a shout.

Eleanor told herself this was a special circumstance. Her sore muscles were crying out for the steamy pool, and she really did want to settle her stomach. "You coming?" Sirius asked when emerged, hair soaked.

Eleanor blushed but took of her robes and sweater, wading into the pool in just her pale pink bra and panties. She avoided looking at him but could feel his eyes on her body.

"I'm Sirius by the way. Sirius Black."

"I know who you are," Eleanor sighed in happiness as she relaxed into the water.

"You're the Ravenclaw ballerina, right?" She was surprised he knew that much about her. "Yes, my name's Eleanor. Eleanor Atwood."

Sirius smiled at her, and she ignored the special feeling that look gave her. "We haven't hooked up, have we?"

Eleanor scoffed. "As if!"

"Pity." So she rolled her eyes and splashed him, leaving him choking on the water. His eyes were wide in disbelief. "Oh, it's on." And he dunked her easily beneath the water. She swum below his hands, emerging just in time to push his shoulders down into the pool.

He grabbed at her feet and she shrieked as his hands began to tickle their way up her body, hitting the sweet spots at her waist and on the backs of her thighs. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed this much.

Sooner than she would have liked the water began to cool, and the bubbles had long ago evaporated. Sirius leaned over the side of the pool to check what look liked a spare bit of parchment. What he saw made him tense up. "We have to get out of here - Filch is coming down the corridor...and we're basically destroying curfew."

"How in Merlin's name do you know-?" But before she could ask he'd pulled her from the tub and thrown her a towel. Hastily pulling on robes and shoes, the two sopping wet teenagers headed for the door. Eleanor cast a silencing spell on their feet so Filch wouldn't hear the squelching.

Checking both ways down the corridor, Sirius pulled a large cloak out of his bag and swung it over the two of them. "Borrowed James' invisibility cloak for the night," he said in response to her puzzled look. He then led her down the stairs, toward the direction of the Ravenclaw common room.

Once they were out of Filch's path, Sirius removed the cloak. "Why does it not surprise me you know the way to my common room?" Sirius just smirked. "I'll take that as a thank you for saving your neck tonight."

"Speaking of that," Eleanor began. "How did you know Filch was coming for us?" They had arrived at the Ravenclaw portrait. Sirius just winked at her. "Too late, a story for another time. I'll catch you around, Eleanor Atwood. Many thanks for the bath." And then he disappeared under the cloak.

El didn't know why she couldn't stop smiling after she entered the empty common room. She felt warm and safe; all the day's rehearsal and the issue in the bathroom felt so far away. The feeling stayed with her as she climbed into bed, clean and sleepy, ready to get the best sleep she'd had in ages.

111111111111111111111111111

Monday's double potions with the Slytherins effectively killed Eleanor's good mood. She struggled to pay attention to Slughorn's lecture on Felix Felicis, even though it seemed a dead useful little potion.

Next to them, Lorraine, Lisi, and Alicia giggled at a magazine they'd half hidden under the table. Lorraine flipped her long golden hair behind her shoulder, whispering, "Oh, I forgot to tell you all about my night with Sirius on Saturday." Lisi and Alicia huddled close. Sirius' status as a Gryffindor blood-traitor did little to detract girls form any house from their crushes.

Eleanor leaned closer without realizing, trying to catch more of the conversation.

Lorraine giggled, "We met up outside at midnight and walked around the grounds for hours...and then, well, you know what happened next." The girls looked suitably impressed, but Eleanor couldn't suppress a scoff. They looked up at her, and Eleanor blushed.

Lorraine narrowed her, "Got something to say, Atwood?"

"N-no. No, sorry," she hated herself for bowing in so quickly. Lorraine looked suspicious but went back to her conversation..

RJ was staring at her, eyebrows raised. "What was that all about?"

Eleanor was still hot from embarrassment. "She's lying, that's all."

RJ smirked, "And how would you know Eleanor Atwood? What, er, who have you been doing?" She smacked his arm. "I just ran into him is all. Nothing happened. You know I dislike the guy, plus I'm not really his usual type."

They turned back to Slughorn, but Eleanor felt a sinking feeling that her words were true. She touched her stomach, recalling Madam Kusnetsova's words and her resolution to eat less and dance more.

Good thing she had rehearsal this afternoon. She just had to get through Defense Against The Dark Arts with the Gryffindors first. Her heart beat a little quicker and she immediately hated herself. Why was she excited to see him? She barely knew the guy. For all she knew he wouldn't even remember their little, uh, incident.

She tried not to think about whether that would make her sad.

The bell rang, and RJ and Eleanor picked up and hurried to the Defense classroom. This year's professor, their seventh in as many years, was Professor Meriweather, a small whimsical-seeming witch with a killer grasp of defensive magic, as they'd soon learned. Her lessons had so far been entertaining and interactive, and today was no different.

"Today, we're going to practice stunning and defensive magic. I'm going to put you in partners...Miss Evans, Mr. Potter you two over there. Mr. Black, you work with Miss Atwood. Mr. Friar, how about you go up against Mr. Holden…" She moved around the room matching them up. Eleanor couldn't believe her luck.

She moved towards Sirius and he grinned at her. "Partners, fancy that." He stood ten feet away from her as they raised their wands. "Stupefy!" she shouted just as he cast "Protego!" and deflected. She raised her eyebrows. "Nice job, Black. But I won't let you off that easy. Tarantallegra!" Sirius' legs began dancing erratically.

"Rictusempra!" And instantly she was keeled over with the extreme tickling sensation that was so much more than anything he'd done to her in the bath. "Levicorpus!" she gasped, and Sirius swung into the air held upside down by his ankle.

His shirt slipped down, exposing some well-defined abs that Eleanor couldn't appropriately admire considering she was in the fetal position, begging for mercy.

"Enough!" Professor Meriweather shouted, and everyone was put right, gasping for air in various states of disarray. Sirius plopped down beside Eleanor on the floor. "You're a fine dueler you know," he said conversationally as she gripped her sore abs and tried to breathe. He helped her into a sitting position. "You're not too bad yourself, Black."

Just as the bell rang, Black leaned down and whispered so lightly in her ear she at first wasn't sure she'd heard it. "Prefects baths, midnight?" She nodded and he jumped up and away, joing his fellow Marauders as they bustled out the door.

RJ came over and helped her off the floor. "Looks like you and Black had a fun time, eh?"

Eleanor only rolled her eyes. But her heart thumped wildly, imaging all the things that could happen in the prefects' bathroom in a mere 12 hours. 


End file.
